


Like the Wolf

by notthelasttime



Series: Bad Moon Rising [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthelasttime/pseuds/notthelasttime
Summary: Lucis has a wolf problem that no one wants to talk about.The transformation back in to a human body is a taxing one, but Prompto is always willing to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more accurately a "vaguely werewolf AU" at least at this point in time.
> 
>  
> 
> this ain't a songfic but if you're looking for some mood music hornett by all the saints made for some good late night writing
> 
>  
> 
> edit: ayyyy i finally got around to fixing the tense-swap. reread and fixed grammar/typos for the rest of the fic as well

The first time it happens it's an accident. 

When Prompto shows up at Noct's apartment only to find that the illusive Prince himself is nowhere to be found, he has to wonder if Noct had forgotten they made plans, or if something came up and he just hasn't had the chance to text. Before deciding what to do he heads down two floors to another apartment- Ignis's. Soon after Noct had moved out, his Father had all but insisted that Ignis move into the same building as well, as a precaution he reassured, though that never stopped Noctis from complaining about how Regis doesn't trust him enough not to have Ignis spy on him all the time.

Prompto doesn't think it would be all that bad having Iggy close by.

Noct has given him keys, both to his apartment and Ignis's, which Prompto has avoided mentioning to the Chamberlain. He can only imagine the look of annoyance on Ignis's face, biting his tongue since _technically_  he can't say anything when it had been Noct's decision, what with the royal hierarchy and all.

He lets himself in after knocking, not sure why he would feel the need to snoop if no one had answered the door, but his feet carry him in nonetheless, the apartment dark save for a dim lamp between a window and an armchair. He had teased Ignis about his stark apartment on more than one occasion. Normally it doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but tonight it seems lonely. Like a prison cell. 

"Ignis?" No answer. He should leave. He walks forward. 

The door to the bedroom is ajar and Prompto pushes it open, a thousand excuses on the tip of his tongue for why he doesn't just leave. 

The bedroom is empty.

The book on the nightstand is perfectly centered, the bedspread is perfectly smooth and everything is infuriatingly organized and pristine.

The window is wide open.

It's strange. It shouldn't be strange. The night isn't particularly cold, even with fall rapidly approaching, and it's not as if Ignis has robbers to worry about being on the 47th floor. It just seems like something that is so _un_ -Ignis. This is the type of man who carries an extra set of glasses with him, and schedules every moment of every day down to the minute from the time he wakes up to the time he falls asleep. Ignis who never leaves his door unlocked or unbolted, and scolds Noct in an attempt to make him to the same. Ignis, with his bedroom window wide open, dark curtains billowing softly from the draft, moonlight pooling in onto the floor. 

Prompto turns from the room with a sudden flush of self consciousness, feeling the invasion of privacy, the boundaries he never should have overstepped. 

He should probably give the key back to Noctis. 

He pauses by the door before leaving, pulling out his phone deciding he might as well text Noct before running off, just to see what's happened. It's not like him to flake on plans.

There's a thud from the bedroom.

Prompto freezes. He could have imagined it. He was just there, no one had been in the room. 

There is a noise that could be a growl. Or a moan. 

He's fairly certain if someone is in the middle of an attempted break in, Prompto would be last on the list of people best equipped to deal with this sort of thing. If he slips out now he can get out before anyone even knows he was here.

He turns and walks to the bedroom. 

Ragged breathing reaches him before he reaches the doorway, and he feels himself go cold. His mouth is dry. The door had swung partially shut behind him when he had walked out, now and he pushes it open once again.

In a crumpled heap under the window is Ignis. 

Prompto is on him in an instant, hovering at his side before a number of details about the situation can sink in. He puts a hand on Ignis's shoulder, feeling the skin that's fever-hot, and covered in cold sweat. Ignis isn't wearing anything, glasses included, and if there wasn't something obviously, seriously wrong with him, Prompto thinks his brain would have short circuited. As it is he files the fact away, something to think about later. Prompto's hands smooth over his back, trying to give comfort, feeling the muscles beneath his fingers tremble, from exhaustion or cold, he doesn't know. Prompto doesn't know what to do, but his hands find Ignis's face and pull him to look up, all the while he's whispering a name like a lifeline;  _Ignis, Ignis, Ignis_.....

He's pale, way too pale, and his eyes are bloodshot with dark spots like bruises under them and he looks slightly confused like he's not sure where he is, but Ignis lowers his forehead to Prompto's shoulder and lets it rest there, exhausted, still breathing hard, and some secret part of Prompto's mind clings to the idea that it's because even as out of himself as he is, Ignis still sees _him_ , still sees Prompto and trusts him. 

Prompto rakes his hair back, and that too is slick with cold sweat. Prompto can smell it on him, the sour sweat mixed with musk and he thinks maybe he should be disgusted, but he's not. His stomach is tight and his heart won't stop pounding, and part of it's panic but there's another layer to all of this as well, one that involves feelings that Prompto's been quick to ignore every time they flare up, and Ignis, naked and vulnerable with his face nuzzled into Prompto's neck, and icy fingers that somehow found their way to Prompto's waist, fisting the fabric of his shirt there. He can see every knob of Ignis's spine, poking through the pale skin, and Prompto bites his lip and thinks about how badly he wants to trace his fingers down that line of bones. 

" _Water_..." he's saying, and Prompto hears his voice crack, " _I need water._ "

He's reluctant to leave but desperate to help, and he has to prop Ignis up against on the wall before he gets up to make sure that he doesn't just slump right back down to the floor. In the kitchen, out of Ignis's grasp, Prompto knows there's really only one thing that takes a toll on someone's body like that. He forces himself to take a deep breath, and lets it out slow, has to remind himself that it's just Ignis in there; no claws, no fangs. The rest of the story well... that's a problem for another day.

He finds a row of water bottles on the bottom shelf of the fridge, in a perfect line because it's Ignis, and of course his meticulousness extends even to the organization of a refrigerator. 

Ignis tries to swat Prompto's hands away when he lifts the water bottle up to his lips, but they both know it's a lost battle. He can barely keep himself upright, and even if he could eventually manage without Prompto's help, it's easier this way, more efficient. Ignis takes small sips, and Prompto finds one of his traitorous hands sneaking it's way up to Ignis's neck, his thumb and forefinger coming to rest along the length of his jaw. To hold his head steady, he tells himself, and at this point he's having a hard time believing his own excuses. 

When the bottle of water is half empty Prompto puts the cap back on, conscious of Ignis's eyes following his every move. His head's resting back on the wall for support, and his breathing has finally evened out. He still looks like absolute shit, if Prompto's being completely honest, but at least he no longer looks like he's on the verge of death. 

Ignis's eyes are half lidded with obvious fatigue, and Prompto, running out of other places to look, finally meets his gaze. He can't read the expression there, but it's soft, maybe curious. Maybe because he knows Prompto's had to have guessed the truth by now, but he's still here, trying to help. He _wants_ to help. Their faces are unbearably close.

"I need to rest," Ignis says finally, and his voice, while rough, doesn't sound quite as bad as it did early, and Prompto considers it a small success. 

He wraps a skinny arm around Ignis's waist and helps him stand, hyper aware of every inch of skin that he touches. Prompto looks everywhere- the floor, his feet, the ceiling, Ignis's profile, his chest, the bed, the book on the bedside table, back at his feet, and his eyes _still_ somehow manage to land between Ignis's legs.  _It was only for a second_ , he tries to tell himself as his face grows hot and his only consolation is that Ignis is so out of it there's no way that he even noticed. Not that voyeurism is really any better, and the image of his cock has burned itself into his brain anyway; long, just like the rest of him, resting in a thatch of hair a few shades darker than the hair on his head.

If there's such a thing as Hell, Prompto is sure ogling your friend's dick while they're in an altered state is probably on the list of ways to wind up there.

It's not the only thing Prompto noticed though. There are scars, on his left side. Marks faded with time but with that telltale discoloration and puckering of the skin, marks that cover a large portion of his abdomen, and wrap around his back. Like a jaw full of teeth, biting down on his waist, tearing through flesh and muscle.  

He can't help Ignis get in to bed fast enough, wanting to get him _covered_. Prompto helps lower him down, smooths the hair away from his face and tucks the blanket up under his chin. Ignis's eyelids keep fluttering like he's trying to hold on to consciousness but it's obviously a lost cause. Prompto sticks the half empty water bottle on the bed side table within easy reach, and heads in to the kitchen to grab another. After a moment's hesitation, he grabs a banana out of the fruit bowl on the counter as well, thinking that by the time Ignis wakes up he'll be hungry, and weak. A part of him wants to stay and be there for him, and the thought of curling up next to Ignis in his bed sends sparks flying through all of his nerve endings, but he knows now's not the time. Knowing Ignis he'll want a chance to collect himself before dealing with Prompto. 

Hearing him in the room again Ignis turns his head towards Prompto as he sets the water and banana on the table. Ignis tries to speak but Prompto hushes him, and when Ignis reaches a hand out to try and grab him, Prompto is gone a moment too fast, none the wiser to Ignis's searching grasp, and Ignis doesn't even realize that Prompto has left the room until he hears the latch of the door closing. 

 

 

Prompto comes home to an empty house and for once it's thankfulness and not loneliness that he feels looking at the dark rooms. It's late. There would be questions. Prompto has plenty of questions of his own that he's been trying desperately to keep at bay. He doesn't want to have to think about it, not now, possibly not ever if he gets his way. Better to pretend there's a different explanation. Better to pretend none of this ever happened.

He remembers the feel of Ignis's skin under his palms, the labored breath on his neck, the _smell_ of him.

Better to pretend _almost_ none of this ever happened.

Prompto all but falls into bed himself, surprised that exhaustion has won out over his racing mind. He doesn't want to think about the fact that he hadn't bothered to change his shirt or wash his hands, and that drifting between consciousness and sleep the only thing his brain wants to focus on is the fact that he can smell Ignis all over himself. It feels like his bed is spinning. He pinches his eyes shut so hard white spots blossom into his vision, and then opens them. He holds a breath and counts to 5, blows it out of his mouth, buries his fists into the blanket. He's hard. Uncomfortably so. All he can smell is Ignis. 

Prompto rolls on to his stomach and the pressure on his cock tells him immediately that it's a mistake. He's supposed to be trying to calm down, not getting off to the thought of Ignis, naked and spent, practically collapsed on top of him...

 _Fuck_.

He grinds his hips down into the mattress. It's not enough. Groaning, he rolls back over and he can't shove his boxers off fast enough. He's already breathing heavily when he grabs the tip of his cock, rubbing in small circles. 

He thinks of Ignis, covered in lean muscle, glistening with sweat. He can smell him. Nuzzling his neck, planting a kiss on the sensitive skin there, pushing his hands up under Prompto's shirt. 

He squeezes the base of his cock and feels the muscles on his stomach tighten in response and he starts stroking, slow at first but gaining speed while hazy images of Ignis, real and imagined, fill his mind. He thinks about what Ignis would look like fully erect, what he'd taste like. He starts bucking his hips up into his fist. He thinks about Ignis on top of him, holding him down and saying his name as he-

Prompto comes with a jolt and he strokes himself through it, making a mess as his cock pulses. He lays there a long while before moving. His shirt has suffered the worst of it, and he slides it off then uses it to clean off his hand as well before chucking it into his hamper and rolling on to his side. Sleep comes soon after, and Prompto drifts, thinking of Ignis, alone in his own bed.

 

First thing in the morning there's a text from Ignis waiting on his phone:

_We need to talk._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name That Duran Duran Song
> 
> (Ignis loves 80s brit pop and no one can tell me otherwise) 
> 
>  
> 
> I literally got frustrated with myself for the lack of ust in my own writing and wound up popping this out overnight (after I'd spent the day writing the next chapter of my other fic). more of an exercise for my own writing practice than anything else so it's not particularly polished, apologies for mistakes/typos/nonsense/the usual
> 
> as always, thanks for reading, you're all champs, etc etc


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late night writing hours brought to you by: waltz real slow by HTRK

Ignis asks to meet him, and when Prompto agrees he gives a time and a place. 

A particularly popular cafe near the Citadel, in the middle of the day. Public, crowded. It was... considerate, given the circumstances. But maybe it stings a little bit that Ignis felt the need to make the gesture.

Prompto, anxious as ever, shows up early. He can't stand waiting around at home any longer, opting to wait in the cafe instead as if that will make time move faster. He sits at a table with an untouched sandwich for over an hour, his eyes hardly leaving the plate in front of him. When Ignis finally comes to sit opposite him, coffee in hand, he doesn't look up, and neither of them say hello. Prompto thinks if he looked into his face now he'd all but die of mortification, thinking about what he'd done with his memories from the night before, and he knows that Ignis will see the way he avoids his eyes and assume all the wrong things. 

"How long?" It's the first question out of his mouth but not the first question he'd had when he found out. 

"A while," Ignis says, and Prompto huffs out a breath that could almost be a laugh and flops back in his chair, irritated. If this is the kind of evasion that he's going to be met with then he'd rather not bother.

"Since I was 9." Oh. 

"Does Noct know?" and Prompto can hear the accusation in his voice and he hates it. He looks up at Ignis then, sees that he has the mask of a face on that he wears when dealing with Royal business, and he hates that too. 

Ignis's voice is tight. "Not. Officially." 

Of course. It'd be hard not to notice your oldest friend and royal advisor disappearing once a month but they need him to be able to feign ignorance. If it got out that the chamberlain was afflicted with this  _condition_ it wouldn't look good for anyone, least of all Noctis. Ignis would be banished from Lucis at best, while the Royal family was put through the wringer publicly.  

The question he really wants to ask is  _why didn't you tell me_ but he knows that's not fair, and that doesn't stop it from eating him up inside.  _Does Gladio know too?_ he wonders but even if the answer is yes from a practical standpoint for taking care of Noct, Prompto's sure he'll feel more jealousy than understanding.

He ducks his head, voice quiet, "Can't you take suppressants?"

Wrong question. Ignis's face goes tight like his voice, " _I am_."  Oh. 

"But you still-"

"I can put off the transformation and shorten its duration but not stop it entirely," he speaks quickly and in a low voice that will get lost in the chatter of the cafe to anyone beyond their table. 

In Prompto's defense information regarding wolves is hard to come by, at least anything even half way factual and not fear mongering propaganda. Everybody in Insomnia likes to pretend that the problem doesn't exist, right up until something happens, then everyone's out for blood in a witch hunt that always blows over too quickly before anything gets solved. Regis can't do much. The King can't fix what the people don't want him to talk about.

"What's it like?" he asks, hardly breathing. He's looking Ignis in the eye now so he can see the very subtle ways in which Ignis closes himself off.

Prompto doesn't get an answer and when Ignis leaves a few minutes later neither of them say goodbye.

In the weeks that follow Prompto's fairly sure that Ignis is avoiding him. Where in the past they would constantly be circling around each other at Noct's, Ignis has been suspiciously absent. He doesn't know how Ignis manages it, other than it must be with the same uncanny ability he has to have no less than 4 people's daily schedules memorized at any given time, and Noct doesn't think enough of it to say anything. Prompto's not even sure he's noticed.

The full moon comes and goes. Then another.

Part of Prompto is aching to see Ignis, _even just for a minute, even if it's awkward_ , and another part of him knows if Ignis doesn't want to see him, there's not much he can do about that. Maybe he had crossed a greater line than he knew. Perhaps Ignis thought avoidance was better now that Prompto knew the truth. Either way it still makes something in his chest feel tight.  

 

 

 

 

The second time it happens Prompto's pretty sure his life was saved. 

 

There's a weird sort of double vision that happens to the citizens of the Crown City when it comes to wolf attacks. For all of their tales of terror, incidents in the city are incredibly rare. Brutal and deadly, to be sure, but no more common than any other dangerous crime, and infrequent enough so that any real fear Prompto may have had about being out late at night had all but diminished over time. It shouldn't have.

Even when the sounds of howling fill the air, loud enough to drown out the rest of the white noise of the night and make Prompto's hair stand on end, he doesn't panic. And if it's starting to feel like he's being watched, well, Prompto has never been good at keeping a clear head when he gets a little anxious. But when he thinks he hears a growl nearby maybe his heart starts to race and he walks a little faster, and it worries him enough that when he sees something _big_  moving out of the corner of his eye, he bolts. 

He's not so far away from home, but even if not for his panic-addled mind jumping to the worst possible conclusions, he knows he won't be able to make it. Prompto's a runner and he can be fast, but not fast enough. Not when you're being chased by something _huge_ , with fangs and claws and a longer breadth between four feet than Prompto could ever hope to have between his own two. Adrenaline might give him a boost but that won't be enough, and he's really wishing he hadn't spent all those years rolling his eyes at his mother when she yelled at him for going out at night on a full moon. 

He trips. 

It's the kind of thing that's so stupidly typical of him that he probably would have started laughing if he wasn't so sure he's about to die. 

Prompto turns to see what's behind him because he has to look, even if it's certain death coming at him, seeing it is better than not knowing. Or so he thought. It's one thing to know, objectively, the massive size of the wolves. It's another thing entirely to see one charging towards you, black fur, eyes bright, mouth open. Prompto couldn't run if he wanted to. The fight or flight response seems to be lost on him, as his body has opted to freeze instead, and he's mentally preparing to be torn to shreds by rows of razor sharp teeth when something _flies_ straight over him, colliding with the wolf and stopping it dead in its tracks. 

One beast has turned in to two, and it's laughable because if there's anything that could have made this situation worse, it's adding _more wolves_. At least that's what Prompto's thinking until he realizes that they're fighting each other, not turning on him. Unless, of course, they're fighting over who gets to devour him whole, but Prompto can't really concentrate on that train of thought through all of the growls and whimpers as the newcomer, a sandy brown wolf even bigger in size, is mercilessly biting at the black wolf's neck. The black wolf breaks free but the brown wolf is on him again, snarling and biting deep until his opponent whimpers again. It's vicious and quick, and when the black wolf finally scampers off, tail between its legs, the brown wolf follows a few paces, snapping at his haunches, before stopping his pursuit to howl at the moon for his victory, warding off any others. 

Prompto still hasn't found his legs, and the fact that the black wolf is gone doesn't stop the manic beating of his heart.

The brown wolf walks back to him, deliberately slow and Prompto sees green eyes. His hackles are raise, tail still bristled, and there's still a growl trapped in his throat. He keeps his distance but Prompto can see the blood on his muzzle as he bares his teeth. 

Prompto doesn't let himself say his name.

But he does hold out his hand to the wolf but all that earns him is a growl and another step back, increasing the distance between them. It's frustrating and irritating because Prompto misses his _friend_ , and he'll care about him no matter what kind of body he's in, and the fight that just happened that had such a high chance of going south, the fact that he put himself in danger for Prompto's sake makes Prompto think that the feeling is mutual, even if the man in a wolf's body is standing there snarling his denial. 

It takes some time for him to get on his feet again, and when he does he makes the slow trek the rest of the way home on unsteady legs, the wolf keeping his distance but following him the whole way back. When he's finally back at his front door, Prompto takes one last look over his shoulder. The wolf sits, just shy of the walkway leading up to Prompto's house. He wants to say something but doesn't know what so he bites his lip and goes inside the house instead. 

He doesn't know if the wolf will stay ( _probably not_ , he thinks, _don't get your hopes up_ ) but he can't help himself anyway. On his desk by the window he sets a pitcher of water and a glass, a towel, and a pair of sweatpants that are slightly too big for him (though he thinks they'll still be too short). His friend will have to go commando but Prompto thinks that's probably less awkward than sharing a pair of someone else's boxers. He walks over to his window and opens it as wide as it will go, and after pacing around his room to get the nervous energy out, he lays down on his side on the bed, facing the window where he can catch just a glimpse of the moon in the sky outside.  

 

 

He wakes up gradually to the softest noises and there's Ignis, back in his human form, leaning heavily on Prompto's desk and wearing Prompto's clothes. The fact that he's on his feet means he must have been there for a while and Prompto wants to shake himself for falling asleep and not being there to help. In an instant he's wide awake, and he hurries to Ignis's side, bold hands gripping his naked waist and his heart skips at the way Ignis grabs onto his shoulders and leans heavily on him to steady himself.

" _Hey_ ," he hears himself whisper, too soft, too gentle. It's said with the kind of reverence that Prompto thinks will give him away and he wishes he hadn't said anything at all.

It's like last time; feverish skin covered in sweat, icy hands, eyes that are hazy and tired and speak of exhaustion beyond anything strictly physical. But this time Promto knows what to expect and he knows what to do. 

Ignis may be the smart one but Prompto has done his research. He hadn't realized how much he didn't know until their meeting at the cafe, and something, be it guilt or curiosity or a longing to understand, had prodded him into action.

His education had been a slow and tedious process. There was only so much to be found online, and the paranoid and anxiety ridden part of his brain kept worrying over the fact that maybe the government had trackers on those kinds of websites, that they'd see his IP address all over and maybe pay him a visit to see if there was cause for concern. Well as long as he hadn't suffered a bite, he guessed Noct could probably get him out of trouble, if it came to that. Maybe. The library had better information, but self consciousness and another bout of paranoia prevented him from checking most of the books out to read on his own time, instead sneaking glances through them when he was alone in the back corner of the stacks. When he  _did_ find something with enough information to make it worth the risk of taking home, he brought the incriminating book up to the check out counter amid a mass of other indiscriminate titles so that hopefully no body would look too hard at the one stray title about wolves. 

There's a dissonance that happens with the change, all the books said the same. Supposedly it was... difficult. Coming back to a human body. Feeling human again.

It's all a mess, the way pain and pleasure seem to go hand in hand with the change, the eroticism of it all. The spike in hormones, an increase in libido that happens at the full moon. In the illustrations of transformations that pepper the pages of some of the books, the subjects faces are always twisted in ways that are less agony, more _wanting_. And then there's the importance of touch. Touch helps, to get past the agitation, the discomfort, to feel human again, it came up again and again. That's what Prompto clings to, as he holds on to Ignis and leads him to the bed. Touch helps.

"Lay down."

"No," Ignis says, groggy, "I shouldn't be here," and Prompto thinks,  _then why the hell did you come?_ But he leaves the question unasked because he doesn't want it answered. He doesn't want to know that it's out of obligation or guilt or that he thinks after tonight he has to look after Prompto, like he can't take care of himself, and if there's anything Ignis does best, it's taking care of _anyone_ but himself. 

It's maybe a little lucky that Ignis is too weak to put up much of a fight and Prompto figures he can feel bad about it later. After he's got Ignis laying down he doesn't give himself time to think before crawling in bed next to him. Touch helps, he tells himself again so that he won't second guess himself when he wraps his arms around Ignis and pulls him closer. Touch helps.

"What are you doing?" Ignis asks, sounding almost nervous, and it's a small sort of victory that he doesn't pull away. Prompto's own embarrassment and uncertainty are finally setting in, and he's glad the room is dark because he knows his face has turned bright red. 

"I did my research," he says trying to keep his voice steady, "this is supposed to help... right?" He's close enough to feel the heat of Ignis's body and he wants to be closer.

"You don't have to-"

" _I want to help_ ," he says but he can still feel Ignis trying to pull away. Prompto pulls him right back in. "Look if... if you really don't want me to I won't. But I just. I _want_ to help," he sighs, and says it again, quieter, "I want to help." 

Slowly, he feels the body next to him start to relax. 

 

 

It's some time after and Ignis has finally given in, relaxing in to him and Prompto is back to running his hands through his hair, slowly, cradling his head resting right there on his chest over his heart. 

"I like losing control," Ignis says, and it's so quiet Prompto almost thinks he imagined it.

"What?" he asks, because he doesn't trust himself to say anything else. 

"You asked me what it was like. To change."  

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I owe you that much, at least." Prompto doesn't respond but feels his grip on Ignis's hair tighten and he's sure Ignis just heard the way his heart started thrumming faster. He knows that's not all of it. He knows it's not a _good_ thing, this involuntary change that happens with the moon. He knows it hurts, having your body ripped apart and put back together again, and he knows it forces people to be dishonest, because for the sake of avoiding the public scorn, it's better if no one knows. He knows it practically requires daily medication that can mess with mood, and sleep, and appetite all so that the effects of the condition can be dampened, up until the full moon when the wolf rears its ugly head anyway. He knows, even with suppressants, the change can bring about rage. The urge to attack and bite and spread the curse. He knows it can't be easy. Leave it to Ignis to ignore all of that, and tell him something he had twisted in to being good.  

"Doesn't it bother you?" Ignis asks him and his hand stills. _Of course not_ , he wants to say, but then that feels like it will give him away too, but if he's being really honest here he's more upset by the idea that everyone knew but him, rather than the fact of the matter itself. It's jealousy, he knows, and he wishes his excuses about the fact that he's upset about being the last in their tight little group of friends to know, that it's just because he feels left out, and not something more specific to Ignis that held more weight. "You don't mind... helping me like this?" Ignis clarifies his question, like that's the reason Prompto's having a hard time giving a straight answer, as if he hasn't spent most of his time knowing Ignis wishing he could touch him like this, be this close. Maybe it's a little upsetting to think that Ignis never got this kind of help because he didn't want to make someone else uncomfortable, even knowing it was what he needed (and of course he knew this what what he's been needing, because it's Ignis and whatever research Prompto has done, Ignis has done in triplicate).

"No," Prompto says when he can finally get his voice working again, "I mean... you'd do the same for me. Wouldn't you?" 

The silence that follows is agonizing and he wishes, not for the first time he had kept his stupid mouth shut. The obvious answer is yes, of course he would, because it's Ignis and taking care of others is part of his personality to a fault, but there's an unspoken weight to the question that Prompto didn't realize had seemed so desperate until it was out of his mouth. Time stretches out and Prompto almost thinks (hopes) that Ignis has finally fallen asleep. 

That is until he feels Ignis move his hand until it's wrapped around his waist in a way that Prompto almost catches himself calling  _possessive_ , and he feels himself go warm all over when Ignis, barely audible, gives his response.

"I wouldn't let it happen in the first place." 

 

 

 

He's angry with himself for being so upset when he finds that Ignis is long gone in the morning. He knows he's being unfair; that doesn't stop the feeling anyway. It's the middle of the week and knowing Ignis he won't allow himself enough time away from the Citadel to recover. He'd be at work by now, dressed perfectly, face neutral, forcing himself back into normality in a way that wouldn't allow anyone to suspect that something might be off. 

Prompto rolls over and clutches the pillow that Ignis had been using to his chest, buries his face in it and breaths deep, smelling him there still. If every night for the rest of the week that's how Prompto falls asleep, clutching the pillow and breathing him in, well that's not really anyone's business but his own. And if now more often than ever Prompto's mind turns toward the Prince's Chamberlain when his hand finds its way under his waistband, making a fist for him to fuck well, that was just something he'd have to live with the consequences of in his own mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would devolve in to smut but then feelings and some plot kinda happened.
> 
> also so much for being vague about that whole werewolf thing. this entire thing is so self indulgent lmao sorry guys


	3. Chapter 3

The third time it happens it's intentional.

 

 

When Ignis starts coming around again it's slow and gradual. He's stiff around Prompto, subtly too formal, but anything is better than the radio silence from before and Prompto takes whatever he can get. And in time, it gets better.

Prompto wants to seek him out, to make this tentative new trust between them to evolve faster, but he knows that trying to force it will only make things worse, and that Ignis needs to take his time in coming to terms with this new _thing_ between them. So he waits.

And when the full moon approaches again, he makes a decision.

 

 

Prompto imagines the key burning a hole through his hand as he clutches it tight, walking down the hall on floor 47, not wanting to let himself think too hard about what he's come here to do.

It's getting dark. 

He stands outside Ignis's door and thinks, not for the first time, _why are you here?_

 _Because Ignis is my friend._ The answer, even in his own mind comes quick, reflexive, the answer he'd have given if he had to say it out loud.

The word _friend_ never tasted so bitter.

Prompto knocks on the door with three hard raps, and no one comes to answer, but he's positive he hears movement inside. It's not too late to back out but he can't turn away now. Not when...

He fits the key into the lock, opens the door and walks inside before he can talk himself out of it.

 

Ignis is disheveled in a way that Prompto hasn't seen before. He's pacing the small apartment, button up shirt untucked and his hair looking like he had been running his hands through it. He's restless, fidgety and full of pent up energy that has nowhere to go. Nowhere to go until the change happens, and from the looks of it he's fighting it off as long as possible. 

Prompto lets the door slam shut behind him and Ignis's head snaps up. 

He looks surprised to see Prompto there, but not nearly surprised enough. He's too distracted or... or maybe he had expected Prompto to come, and Prompto considers that maybe Noct giving him a key wasn't such a big secret after all. 

"You shouldn't be here," he says without conviction. He's stopped pacing, staring Prompto down in an unnerving way, his body gone from too agitated to too still. Neither of them move.

"You shouldn't be here," he says again and then, walking over on long legs with long steps bridges the gap between them, grabbing Prompto's shoulders, meaning to push him back but....

But he doesn't let go. Ignis is squeezing his arms, moving his hands up to his neck, his face. Touching, it had become so easy between them now that the line was crossed. Touch was good, and touching Ignis was better. Especially now, with him instigating it, refusing to let go of the young man in front of him even as he tried to push him away. "You shouldn't be here," he says again, a whisper now, his hands burning hot and still cradling Prompto's face and he's leaning in dangerously close.

"But I want-" Prompto bites his tongue, cuts himself short; what does he _want_? A million things. What doesn't he want.

He wants to push Ignis back on to that lush bed in the room behind him and have his way, kiss every scar and lick the salt from his skin. He wants things to just be normal between them again, casual and easy like it used to be before Ignis started thinking he had to pull himself away, assuming Prompto would rather put distance between them after finding out the truth. He wants to try and take care of the man that's always taking care of everyone but himself. He wants help him through the full moon, and every full moon after this in any way he can, and even if he can only have a small part of Ignis, this secret ugly part is what he wants, what he'll keep, because no one else does this for him. 

 _I want to help_.

Those words again, but they don't do it justice, this thing, this feeling running through Prompto and filling his mind.

He doesn't think he just moves, reaches up to meet Ignis, still leaning over him, to place a kiss on his mouth. 

It's sloppy and desperate and says all the things that Prompto can't articulate otherwise and he feels pressure squeeze his fluttering heart tight with how quickly Ignis responds, mouth open wide.

Friends don't kiss friends like that. 

Prompto wraps his arms around him, pulling him close, and Ignis is running his hands along his face, through his hair. Now that they're so close Prompto can feel how hot his skin is, feverishly so. Everywhere Ignis touches him lights him on fire. Prompto breaks the kiss to lick and bite down the side of his neck, just to come back and find his mouth again, sucking on his lower lip and wanting more and _more_. He feels drunk on it, too hot to think straight.

Ignis is hard. With the full moon heavy and bloated in the sky it doesn't take much, and Ignis, ever the gentleman, tries to keep space between their bodies even as Prompto, hungry for more, tries to close it. 

Doubt, that constant nagging self doubt that likes to pull Prompto down, tells him all of this is only because of the cycle of the moon. He's done the research, he should know better than to think this is something personal, not that Ignis is just in the middle of the hormonal spike that accompanies the change and craving touch, no matter who it's from. His heart beats faster.

Later, he can deal with this later, just not now when he finally has Ignis here, right in front of him, dragging his tongue over Prompto's mouth. He's been fantasizing, hoping something like this would happen for so long he can hardly believe it's real. 

He feels that tongue press over his bottom lip again, followed by the soft tug of teeth, but teeth that are suddenly too sharp and there's a gentle nip of pain as the skin splits.

Ignis pulls back immediately, breathing heavily and murmuring apologies ( _I'm sorry, Gods I'm so so sorry I didn't mean to_ ) and Prompto notices the odd reflection of light in his eyes now, something more wolf than human. Ignis runs a gentle thumb along the bottom of his lip, checking to see how bad the cut is. It's nothing, really, just deep enough to bleed, and once again Prompto doesn't think, he just takes that thumb in his mouth and starts to suck.

Ignis's gasp is audible, and when he swallows hard Prompto watches the way his whole neck moves. He drags it out, wanting to remember every moment that Ignis spends looking at him like _that_ , with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open and the obvious desire on his his face. It's an image he can save for later when the self doubt sets in again. Reluctantly, Prompto opens his mouth and let's Ignis's thumb slide free. 

They stare at each other, both still catching their breath like they're not entirely sure what just happened. Prompto wants to dive back in, to pull Ignis down into him again and retrace the lines of his mouth, but something in the air has changed. There's tension there now and he can see how Ignis is affected, his body stiff and rigid in a way that it wasn't before. 

"I can't put it off for much longer," his voice is husky and he looks almost... sorry. It makes Prompto want to kiss him even more. 

Instead he nods, not trusting his own voice at the moment, afraid it'll crack, or betray just how affected he was by a few frantic kisses. 

"I would rather you didn't see." 

Ignis is backing away slowly, taking measured steps backwards, and when Prompto tries to move forward Ignis holds up his hands and shakes his head. 

"Please, don't," he sounds so desperate Prompto has no choice but to obey. Ignis is in the bedroom doorway now, leaning heavily on the frame and Prompto watches the rise and fall of his chest. He's trying too hard to keep it even. Ignis looks away, "Don't... feel obligated to stay. I can manage on my own."

Prompto finds his voice again, starts to take a step forward before he remembers himself, "Iggy no I- I wanted to come."

 _I want to help_. How many ways can he say it?

"I'll be here when you get back," tonight and every other night that Ignis will let him. 

Ignis must hear the truth of it because a little glimmer of relief shows in his face before he can manage to suppress it. And then his face turns grim.

"Whatever you hear, whatever you _think_ you hear, just... stay out here." He retreats into the bedroom and shuts the door behind him.

It's awful.

Prompto, quietly as possible sneaks over to the door and leans up against it to listen. For a long while nothing happens, and all he can hear is the beating of his own heart. Then it begins. He hears the crack and snap of bone breaking and reshaping into place and growls mixed with what can only be whimpers. Wet squelching and nails scraping on the floor. Heavy breathing. Another snap. He will be good, he will keep his word and he will not open the door until Ignis is gone and he will not see what he isn't meant to see, but gods does he want to. When he hears that whimpering in pain he wants to. 

And then it's quiet. He waits, and then waits some more, just to be sure, before he opens the door.

It's just like the first time; empty room, open window, curtains floating the the gentle breeze and moonlight streaming in. Prompto walks over and looks out at the view of Insomnia. The roof of the building next door is nearly level with the window, and Prompto thinks about how Ignis is so thorough in every decision he makes. Of course it would be this floor, this room, where he can easily jump in and out of the bedroom once a month, a high enough floor that no one on the street below could see. He wonders about the other people in the building, nosy neighbors that might see something their not supposed to. He's sure Ignis has a plan for that too. 

He waits. Prompto tries to find ways to pass the time that don't involving either worrying about Ignis and wondering what he's doing now, or replaying the kiss in his head over and over and over until his face starts feeling warm. It's a losing battle. 

He leaves the bedroom door open so he can hear Ignis when he returns and moves himself to the couch in the living room, absently running fingers over his mouth, feeling the ghost of the kiss and the little sore spot on his lip that's already stopped bleeding. And he waits. 

And eventually, he hears a noise from the bedroom.

 

Ignis is on the ground in a mocking mirror image of the first time Prompto found him. But this time is _different_ , he repeats it in his head again. This time it's not a surprise and this time I knows what to do. He doesn't waste a moment just walks over to where Ignis lays in a heap and gets on the floor next to him, pulling him gently into a sitting position and letting him rest on Prompto's shoulder as he wraps his arms around his shaking body. 

He always seems to forget just how bad it is when Ignis first comes back. The exhaustion and strain in every crease of his face, the dark hollows under bloodshot eyes, his entire body still burning hot and covered in sweat, that attractive-repulsive smell of musky body odor.  

Prompto would have thought he'd be over his embarrassment at Ignis's nakedness at this point but apparently not. 

He brings Ignis water and helps him drink. He goes through the motions from before, more confidant now.

He's much bolder than before, letting his hands run over Ignis's body like he has a claim to it. When he realizes that his fingers have been absently running over the dimpled scar tissue of the bite, Prompto hastily pulls his hand away, until Ignis grabs at his wrist and pulls him back, mumbling, " _don't stop_." 

Little by little Ignis gets his strength back until finally, with some help from Prompto, he's on his feet again, shuffling towards the bed. Prompto helps lower him down and, after a moment's hesitation, shucks off his own shirt and strips down to his boxers before climbing into the bed next to him. If Ignis notices the sudden increase in skin-on-skin contact he doesn't say anything, and he lets Prompto pull him close and wrap his arms around him once again. Their closeness is maddening, and Prompto, to keep himself from doing anything foolish, brings his hand back to the vicious scar on Ignis's side, and places a kiss to his temple. Exhaustion claims Ignis first, but Prompto isn't far behind. 

 

 

When Prompto wakes, the thin pale light of morning is starting to fill the room. He feels arms around him followed by a sharp _tug_ at the bottom of his stomach with the realization of what that means.

Ignis has his body pressed tight to his back, and he can feel the soft tickle of breath on his neck. Ignis is warm, but it's sleep-warmth radiating from his skin, not the sickly feverish heat from the night before. Prompto wants nothing more than to freeze this moment forever. Nothing in life is ever perfect, rarely even close to it, but the soft bed, hazy morning light, the body fitting next to his like the piece of a puzzle, can nearly be described as such. He's tempted to turn his body around so he can see Ignis next to him, face soft, and lost in sleep, but he doesn't want to risk waking him.

The alarm on the bedside table starts blaring instead. 

Ignis is awake almost immediately, reaching over Prompto to shut it off. He's nothing like Prompto who on any given morning can be counted on to sleep through whatever annoying charm he sets to wake him up for five minutes at least, before hitting snooze and falling back asleep until the alarm rings yet again. Of course Ignis would be awake and out of bed as soon as he woke up, not one to lay around and wake up slow. Unfortunately. 

"Prompto," Ignis whispers behind him, trying to see if he's awake, and Prompto cranes his neck back over his shoulder, not entirely ready to leave the previous moment. 

"Prompto, my arm..." ah. Ignis still has an arm trapped under Prompto's body, probably uncomfortably numb by now. Mumbling an apology, Prompto lifts himself up so Ignis can pull himself free, and uses the opportunity to turn around so that they're facing each other. He looks hard at Ignis, trying to discern what kind of condition he's in. Mentally, he has no idea, Ignis has always been far too good at hiding what's going on in his mind, but physically he looks to be on the mend. Tired, to be sure, but it's the kind of thing that can be excused away by his busy schedule and the weight of his responsibilities. Prompto thinks he should spend the day in bed, take a much needed and well deserved break, and of course Prompto would be more than willing to keep him company. He almost makes the suggestion, then stops himself.

"How do you feel?" he asks instead, voice on the raspy side as his body still struggling to wake.

"Human," is his dry response, and Prompto thinks that he looks maybe a little self conscious and has to remind himself that this isn't something that Ignis is used to either. Someone being here after.

"You should take the day off," he suggests without any real confidence. He knows Ignis won't but he wants him to anyway, and he lets his fingers slip back over to the scars that he had spent the night memorizing. 

"I have to be careful," Ignis says, "people might suspect." Of course. 

"Just this once?" Prompto all but pleads, and lifts his eyes up to look Ignis in the face. Ignis, with his eyes still half mast and sleepy and his hair a mess, naked and grimy under the blanket and heartbreakingly handsome still. Prompto's putting of the inevitable, he knows that, but he's going to keep trying all the same. 

Ignis leans in then, quick, on impulse, and presses a kiss, soft and gentle, to Prompto's mouth. It's restrained compared to the previous night, but even after everything Prompto still feels himself blush. 

"Next time please tell me you're coming over before breaking into my apartment."

 _Next time_.

Prompto smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the comments and kudos, they are always very much appreciated especially on something as self indulgent as this. 
> 
> even though this particular part of the story is finished, i miiiiight delve into this au again in the future. who knows.
> 
>  
> 
> i made a writing tumblr, come say hi @ [notthelasttime ](https://notthelasttime.tumblr.com/)


End file.
